The Journey of Harry Potter
by amritanshu
Summary: Journey of Harry, from a child to a man, who will take his destiny in his own hands. AU fanfic, it begins in the third year and will hopefully cover all seven years. This is my first fanfic.


Mrs. Mosey Brown had lived in the 13, Privet Drive ever since she had married Mr. Brown about three decades ago. They had raised their three children in the suburb of Little Whinging. Mrs. Brown had lived alone in the house after Mr. Brown had passed away few years back due to a sudden cardiac episode. Her children had moved out ages ago, hardly keeping any contact with her; telephoning once or twice a year on birthday or Christmas.

This separation couldn't only be blamed on Mrs. Brown's kids. The truth was the loneliness had twisted their mother, from a kind-hearted but with stern exterior lady they remembered their mother had morphed into a vexatious if somewhat bitter old women. To pass her time, Mrs. Brown had tried to take care of her garden which had transformed into a dead and decayed grey mess in the absence for her husband, who used to take care of it. However gardening enabled her primary hobby- gossiping. Every moment she spent in the garden was used to spy on her neighbours. She had made an unlikely friendship with Mrs. Susan Rice who lived in the magnolia crescent and like Mrs. Brown, was a widow. They both would visit each other's house daily to eagerly discuss every new happening in their surroundings.

The summer of 1993 had seen Mrs. Brown being particularly irked by the obnoxious behaviour of the Dursleys who lived opposite her home. After they had moved into the neighbourhood, the Dursleys had lorded their money over their neighbours. Vernon Dursley, who worked some cushy job in in some drilling corporation, was particularly repulsive in flouting the money. His wife, the long necked giraffe, Petunia Dursley was almost as infamous as Mrs. Brown for poking her nose in other people's affairs. Even the Dursleys' son was as obnoxious as his parents, always terrorizing other kids in their locality. So suffice to say, Dursleys were not particularly liked in the locality of civil workers.

This summer Vernon had bought some luxurious car and Dursleys in particularly irksome had been shown off their car, admiring it in loud voices so that everyone in the street could notice it. They were also accompanied by their baby whale of a son, Dudley. Mrs. Brown was also worked up about him and his gang, which she was sure, had broken into her garage.

On one evening when she was busy watching the evening edition of news, she was disturbed by the shouts of 'MARGE!' She recognized it as the voice of Vernon Dursley and immediately moved to window to see what the matter was. What she saw made her jaw dropped to floor and her eyes go round.

Vernon was holding on to some giant balloon which was slowing rising in the air. A dog was hanging from the leg of Vernon. Before they could rise any further Vernon's hand slipped from the balloon (which she later realized was a very fat woman) and he fell flat on the ground on his face. Vernon rose and watch her sister fly away. Then angrily, he stormed back into his home.

GO BACK OUT THERE!' Vernon bellowed, she could hear clearly even in her room. 'GO BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!'

Then she saw the strange nephew of Dursleys, Harry Potter, dragging his trunk across the road towards the junction of Crescent and Drive. "Good riddance", she thought. Potter was notorious in the neighbourhood because astoundingly Dursleys themselves had admitted that their nephew attended St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.

Before she could move back to her chair and reflect upon what had happened, a giant triple-decker, violently purple bus appeared out of thin air. Mrs. Brown removed her glasses and wiped her glasses with the edge of her dress. She put her glasses back on and gazed in the direction the strange bus. Amazingly enough it was still there, the gold lettering over the windshield spelled The Knight Bus. She saw Potter talking with a young man who was dressed in a robe of all things. "Youngsters and their abominable clothes", she muttered. She was Potter climb into the bus and the bus disappeared as if it had dissolved into the thin air as if by magic.

Mrs. Brown stunned by what she had seen in the last few minutes, collapsed into her arm chair. A woman as big as a giant balloon flying, buses materializing out of thin air and vanishing the same, had greatly unsettled Mrs. Brown. She moved and swiftly picked up the phone to inform Susan about what had happened tonight just then her bell rang. She put down the receiver and rose to open the door. She was greeted by two persons dressed in a weird sort of green robes.

The older of them, a round faced man with small stature and with an equally round belly, greeted her, "Pardon us for interrupting you at this late hour Ma'am. Our department received reports of some bizarre happenings in your neighbourhood. Did you witness any such incidents Ma'am?"

Mrs. Brown eager to share what she had seen quickly regaled them with what she had seen. After hearing her account, the younger of them, a blonde-haired woman in her early 20s raised a thin stick of wood and pointed it toward Mrs. Brown. "Please do not move, it will only lengthen the time to the wipe." The stick flashed white and Mrs. Brown knew nothing more.

Meanwhile in the knight bus the thirteen year old wizard Harry Potter was busy having a panic attack about what to do. He was on the run from the wizards because he had performed magic in variance to the magical law. Harry cursed Dursleys for being such a poor family, Marge for being a poor aunt, Ripper for being a poor dog, and, knight bus for being another bad example of magical transport.

What Harry was most upset about was his own anger. He hoped that Marge wasn't hurt too severely. Ever since the incident in down the Chamber of Secrets, Harry's magic was entirely too agitated to be as angry as he really was at Marge. Since he had been bitten by basilisk, Harry had found his magic unstable and chaotic, always eager to be used. Harry, in his anger, had given into the call of his magic. However the end result was not pretty.

Harry was particularly thankful that he had no exams previous year otherwise he would have failed those exams. Practicing the spells had always come easy to him, but the instability of his magic rendered him unable to do so. He could only barely manage to even levitate the sock he was practicing on.

He looked around the bus and saw that Stan had unfurled a copy of the Daily Prophet and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry from the front page. He looked strangely familiar.

"That man!" Harry said, forgetting his troubles for a moment. "He was on the Muggle news!"

Stan turned to the front page and chuckled.

"Sirius Black," he said, nodding. "'Course 'e was on the Muggle news, Neville, where you been?"

He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on Harry's face, removed the front page, and handed it to Harry.

"You oughta read the papers more, Neville."

Harry held the paper up to the candlelight and read:

 **BLACK STILL AT LARGE**

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today. "We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm." Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

"Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?" While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

Harry looked into the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive. Harry had never met a vampire, but he had seen pictures of them in his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy white skin, looked just like one.

"Scary-lookin' fing, inee?" said Stan, who had been watching Harry read.

"He murdered thirteen people," said Harry, handing the page back to Stan, "with one curse?"

"Yep," said Stan, "in front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?"

"Ar," said Ern darkly.

Stan swiveled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Harry.

"Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo," he said.

"What, Voldemort?" said Harry, without thinking.

Even Stan's pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus.

"You outta your tree?" yelped Stan. "'Choo say 'is name for?"

"Sorry," said Harry hastily. "Sorry, I — I forgot —"

"Forgot!" said Stan weakly. "Blimey, my 'eart's goin' that fast . . ."

"So — so Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?" Harry prompted apologetically.

"Yeah," said Stan, still rubbing his chest. "Yeah, that's right. Very close to You-Know-'Oo, they say. Anyway, when little 'Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-'Oo —"

Harry nervously flattened his bangs down again.

"— all You-Know-'Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-'Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard he thought 'e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-'Oo 'ad taken over.

"Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. 'Orrible, eh? An' you know what Black did then?" Stan continued in a dramatic whisper.

"What?" said Harry.

"Laughed," said Stan. "Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?"

"If he weren't when he went to Azkaban, he will be now," said Ern in his slow voice. "I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you . . . after what he did. . . ."

"They 'ad a job coverin' it up, din' they, Ern?" Stan said. "'Ole street blown up an' all them Muggles dead. What was it they said 'ad 'appened, Ern?"

"Gas explosion," grunted Ernie.

"An' now 'e's out," said Stan, examining the newspaper picture of Black's gaunt face again. "Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern? Beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?"

Ernie suddenly shivered.

"Talk about summat else, Stan, there's a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles."

Stan put the paper away reluctantly, and Harry leaned against the window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than ever. He couldn't help imagining what Stan might be telling his passengers in a few nights' time.

"'Ear about that 'Arry Potter? Blew up 'is aunt! We 'ad 'im 'ere on the Knight Bus, di'n't we, Ern? 'E was tryin' to run for it. . . ."

He, Harry, had broken Wizard law just like Sirius Black. Was inflating Aunt Marge bad enough to land him in Azkaban? Harry didn't know anything about the wizard prison, though everyone he'd ever heard speak of it did so in the same fearful tone. Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had spent two months there only last year. Harry wouldn't soon forget the look of terror on Hagrid's face when he had been told where he was going, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people Harry knew.

The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and wastebaskets, telephone booths and trees, and Harry lay, restless and miserable, on his feather bed. After a while, Stan remembered that Harry had paid for hot chocolate, but poured it all over Harry's pillow when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesea to Aberdeen. One by one, wizards and witches in dressing gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus. They all looked very pleased to go.

Finally, Harry was the only passenger left.

"Right then, Neville," said Stan, clapping his hands, "whereabouts in London?"

"Diagon Alley," said Harry.

"Righto," said Stan. "'Old tight, then . . ."

BANG!

They were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Harry sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus's way. The sky was getting a little lighter. He would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off — where, he didn't know.

Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small and shabby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley.

"Thanks," Harry said to Ern.

He jumped down the steps and helped Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig's cage onto the pavement.

"Well," said Harry. "'Bye then!"

But Stan wasn't paying attention. Still standing in the doorway to the bus, he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

"There you are, 'arry," said a familiar voice.

Before Harry could turn, he felt a giant hand on his shoulder. Harry turned around to find his first friend, Hagrid standing beside him. Harry's heart sank. "If Hagrid is here then Dumbledore must have known about what happened in the Privet Drive," thought Harry miserably.

Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them.

"What didja call Neville, Hagrid?" he said excitedly.

Hagrid easily towering over Stan responded, "Neville? This is 'arry Potter."

"I knew it!" Stan shouted gleefully. "Ern! Ern! Guess 'oo Neville is, Ern! 'E's 'Arry Potter! I can see 'is scar!

At his loud voice, Hagrid frowned and quickly looked around. He motioned for Harry to enter the Leaky Cauldron.

"'Ow come you di'n't tell us 'oo you are, eh, Neville?" said Stan, beaming at Harry, while Ernie's owlish face peered interestedly over Stan's shoulder.

Before Harry could say more than "Bye", he found himself inside the bar. Hagrid led Harry through the stairs towards a room on second landing.

"C'mon Harry, we need to see the officer", said Hagrid before he raised his giant fist to rock the door from its hinges.

"Officer?" questioned Harry.

Hagrid began to reply, "Mafalda 'opkirk, she is."

Before Harry could find out who Mafalda Hopkirk was the door was opened by a middle aged witch with black hairs tied in a tight bun. She had a stern expression which reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall. Harry swallowed nervously.

Without saying anything she motioned for them to sit on the couch in the room. Hagrid and Harry quickly sat down on the couch which almost sank to the floor with Hagrid's weight. She settled onto a straight backed chair near the fireplace facing them on the couch.

"This is the second time that Mr. Potter you have flouted the laws of our world", said Hopkirk. Her voice was stern and held a no nonsense tone.

"You have caused quite a spectacle for the muggles. What should we do with this habit of yours?"

"Er," said Harry not very eloquently. His heart was beating as if trying to get outside of his chest. Sweat appeared at his brow. He was sure that he was going to be carted off to Azkaban. May be that's why Dumbledore had sent Hagrid, to provide moral support from someone who had already been to Azkaban.

"No Answer, Mr. Potter. Fortunately for you, Ministry of Magic is not in habit of sending minors to Azkaban. Minister Fudge met with Dumbledore and decided that a fine of one hundred galleons and one month of detention at Hogwarts would suffice.

"Really? Is that it," blurted Harry. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Yes," said Hopkirk as if it pained her personally to utter.

"But I broke the law and the last year the minister sent Hagrid to Azkaban for just on suspicion," Harry said remembering what had happened last year at Hogwarts.

Hopkirk looked irritated at being questioned by a thirteen year old. It was apparent when she said, "What the minister wants to do, it's his business. You would do well to not bother with the workings of Ministry."

She added, "You will also be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. "

"Now I must go. I have other things to do than deal with than the temper tantrums of teenagers. I trust I will not have to deal this matter again. Because Mr. Potter if you perform magic outside the Hogwarts again, I assure you I will see you suspended from the school. Hagrid, I trust you will look after Mr. Potter for today. Goodbye"

With that, she abruptly stood up and exited the room.

Harry let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. Happiness bloomed inside him. He was not going to be expelled from Hogwarts. He could deal with fine and detention.

"Blimey, Harry. You were lucky. Great man, Dumbledore, he immediately went to Ministry as soon as he knew about what you did," said Hagrid. "Now rest, we have a big day tomorrow."

Hagrid settled on the couch and Harry moved on to the bed.

Harry sat on his bed for a long time. The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue to cold, steely gray and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold. Harry could hardly believe that he'd left Privet Drive only a few hours ago, that he wasn't expelled, and that he was now facing completely Dursley-free summer.

And without even removing his glasses, he slumped back onto his pillows and fell asleep.

The next day Harry was shaken out of sleep by Hagrid. He still felt groggy. Harry looked at the window to find out that it was still dawn. Hagrid had already gotten ready.

"C'mon Harry. Get up. We need to go as early as possible. I am going to get us some breakfast," Hagrid told Harry and moved out of the room.

Reluctantly Harry got up and went about his morning rituals. When Hagrid got back, Harry had packed his luggage and was sitting on the couch waiting for Hagrid. After finishing the breakfast, Harry voiced his thoughts, "Where are we going, Hagrid? I can stay here in the leaking cauldron."

Hagrid shook his giant shaggy head. "Sorry, can't do Harry. It is on Dumbledore's orders. It isn't safe for you here. You-know-who's followers are still out of Azkaban. Anybody of them can harm you here."

"But, Weasleys are in Egypt visiting Bill. Where else am I supposed to go?" Harry questioned Hagrid, fearing he would have to go back to Dursleys.

"Dumbledore has asked me to take you to Capital. He has arranged for you to stay with his friend for the summer." Hagrid answered.

Despite the best efforts of Binns to set them to sleep in the classroom of the History of Magic, Harry had learned about the capital of magical UK- Avalon. Harry knew that Avalon was the biggest magical city in the world, boasting to be the home of about 25000 magic wielders. Harry had never gotten the chance to visit it before but had heard a lot about it from Percy Weasley, who had told Harry about the Ministry of Magic. Avalon was founded by Merlin back in the middle ages. After the implementation of the International Statute of Secrecy in 1692, the castle of Canterbury held by Merlin's descendant was proposed and accepted as the seat of the Ministry of Magic of UK Isles.

Harry was more excited about what Oliver Wood, his captain of Gryffindor quidditch team, had told him about the Giant Bowl Quidditch Stadium which also was situated in Avalon. It was the biggest quidditch stadium in the World, with a capacity of about 50000. It was the home of Q-League in Britain. Wood, who had lived all his life in the city, had told Harry about many exciting matches played in the stadium.

Harry excited about the visit to Avalon asked Hagrid, "How are we going to Avalon?"

"I have a motorcycle, Harry. You will be riding in the sidecar," Hagrid answered.

Harry stared at Hagrid, full of doubt that any motorcycle could support Hagrid's size. "Hagrid, from what I've read, Avalon is about 50 miles north of Hogwarts. It would take us a long time to get there."

Hagrid smiled and told him, "It is a magical motorcycle. It was enchanted by Si..er a friend who loaned it to me."

Hagrid had parked the motorcycle in the back of Leaky Cauldron. Harry couldn't help but feel slightly awkward as he got into the side car. It placed him several feet below Hagrid. Harry stored his trunk and Hedwig's cage in the side car. It was a tight fit for Harry but still, he managed to sit awkwardly if somewhat comfortable. Hagrid kicked the motorcycle to life. It roared like a dragon, and the sidecar began to vibrate. With a great roar, motorcycle rose like a plane in the air. His hair whipped back, his eyes watering. Higher and higher they rose until the lights of London became tiny points on the ground.

Before long, the excitement of the flight faded away and Harry settled into a monotonous ride. Hagrid was following the same route taken by the Hogwarts express. The concrete of urban areas soon gave way to countryside and its fields. Soon, Harry found his eyes drooping, his lack of sleep catching up and began nodding off.

Harry woke up to find them surrounded by tall trees in a forest. Hagrid had stopped for some tea and snacks. Hagrid poured tea from a kettle which he was carrying in his cloak. Harry drank the tea but avoided the rocks being familiar with Hagrid's cooking.

Having caught up on his sleep, Harry found himself enjoying the second leg of his journey. They were flying somewhere over Scotland, Harry guessed from the hills. Soon, Harry could see the Hogwarts Castle from the distance, looking absurdly small the size of his fist from the distance. The black lake was glistening like a mirror. Hagrid carried on without stopping in Hogsmeade.

Before long, Harry was gazing at the city of Avalon. It was a breathtakingly beautiful sight. Avalon was nestled among the Scottish Hills on all sides. It was located in the valley carved by the river, Camelot which still ran through the city, dividing the city into four parts. A giant golden dome covered the whole city, making it invisible to all but magical eyes. Harry had heard Hermione gush about its brilliance. It was a magical wonder, shielding the magical city from the muggles and their technology.

From afar Harry could see the castle of Canterbury, the seat of the Ministry of Magic. The whole city was planned around the giant castle. The river divided the city into four parts in its serpentine path through the city. The Ministry of Magic was at its centre, the area around it reserved for homes of ministerial staff and politicians. Harry's eyes were tracking all the wonders of the magical city. The giant quidditch stadium, its bowl shaped structure, dwarfed all the buildings in the city except the ministry. Parliaments of owls were fluttering toward their destination, carrying letters and the daily newspaper.

It was towards the residential area that Hagrid diverted the motorcycle. Hagrid stopped the motorbike in front of the most bizarre house that Harry had ever seen. It was in shape of a giant egg, which was painted white. Hagrid parked the bike and carried Harry's trunk to the door. "Harry, Dumbledore has arranged for you to stay here, with Sam, for the rest of your summer," Hagrid told him. "Now go on, we will see each other at school."

After saying goodbye, Hagrid gunned the bike to life and flew away. Harry watched the Hagrid shaped dot until it was a tiny speck in sky. Then he knocked on the door.

Nobody answered.

Harry knocked again, this time more forcefully.

Shout of someone yelling "Coming" greeted him.

Harry could hear the Sound of someone stumbling to the door. It was yanked open by a tall and thin, blonde-haired man in his late twenties or early thirties, Harry guessed. He had his modesty covered in only a towel. His golden hairs were currently wet and soap was still shining in his ears, which Harry took to presume that he was in bath when Harry had arrived.

"Mr. Potter?" He questioned short of breath, clearly having hurried to open the door.

Harry nodded.

The host's eyes flickered, in a familiar fashion to Harry, toward his forehead to look at his famous lightning shaped scar. He motioned for Harry to enter the house.

He shook his hand enthusiastically, "It's an honour to finally meet you, Mr. Potter. I am Samuel Starr. But please call me Sam. Welcome. Please be seated." He left Harry and went to dress himself.

Once Harry entered the peculiarly shaped house, his jaw dropped to the floor. From outdoor, the house looked hardly bigger than Privet Drive, but now they were standing in the room which could have easily rivaled the common room of Gryffindor. The ceiling of the room stood at about 20 feet high with a giant staircase leading to the upper levels. Harry sat on the giant sofa which had been placed on the right side of staircase, where he was joined by Sam having dressed himself in a brown robe.

"Harry, may I call you Harry?" Sam asked.

Harry nodded.

"I was woken last night at midnight by a ruddy owl. To my utter surprise, it was from Professor Dumbledore. I thought, why on earth the supreme mugwump would write to me at such an uncivilized hour. Well the letter had all the answers. Dumbledore explained in the letter about the accidental magical incident which you performed at your relatives' house. He wanted me take care of you for the rest of the summer," said Sam.

"Hang on, I can look after myself," interjected Harry hurriedly.

"No doubt, Mr. Potter. But, seeing that a former prominent death eater has escaped from Azkaban which, mind you, has never been done before, Dumbledore thinks it to be prudent to not let you stay on your own. And, most probably will be after you for destroying his master. So, Dumbledore has entrusted you in my care for this summer until you are on Hogwarts Express."

Harry nodded, having already being told same by Hagrid.

"Avalon's security has been upgraded after the escaped from Azkaban. Apart from chosen few, nobody knows where you are, not even the Minister of Magic. I would also like you not to tell your friends. You would be one among thousands in the streets of Avalon. You would a needle in the haystack."

Looking at his watch, Sam's eyes widened, "Merlin's Beard, will you look at that. Master Rasputin is going to kill me."

He quickly rose and almost ran up the stairs to his room. About two minutes later, he was saying goodbye to Harry, apologizing for having to abandon Harry, and promising to be at home in the evening, he wore his cloak and stepped outside.

Bewildered at having left alone in the wizarding home, Harry moved around the home, fascinated with magical trinkets and appliances. It was different from Weasleys' home in structure but both were identical in the sense of organized chaos of magic. There was the grandfather clock, similar to Weasleys, with two hands pointing in different directions. One hand had Sam's face on it and the other had a girl with curly hairs on it. Harry opened the door adjacent to the sofa and found himself in a study, which he presumed to be Sam's. Having nothing else to do, Harry picked up a book on dueling techniques and settled himself on the armchair in front of fireplace and began reading it.

Harry, tired from the journey, began nodding off. However, he was woken by a loud crash from fireplace and somebody slammed into him. Both the figure and Harry fell on the floor. The figure stoodup.

"OWWW…OUCH…WHAT THE HELL. STUPID FLOO…," the in-comer shouted. She looked around and her eyes found Harry, still sprawled on the floor.

"POTTER? WHAT ON THE EARTH ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?"

Harry stared at the incomer. She had the same face that was on the second hand of the clock. She was of average height with curly brown hairs and brown eyes. Harry guessed he had seen before in Hogwarts but couldn't recall her house or year. She was staring Harry down with a piercing gaze, looking for answers.

Harry hastened, "Professor Dumbledore-."

"What does Dumbledore have got to do with you being here?" She demanded.

"If you will only give me the chance to explain, you will understand," Harry replied irritated at her.

Harry told her about the incident at Dursleys' house and the arrangement made by Dumbledore and Sam.

"Another preferential treatment for Gryffindor's Golden Boy, well what else can one expect from Dumbledore. He always favour his old house." The incomer said.

"Dumbledore doesn't favour me," Harry retorted.

"Oh, really! What else you call it, when by rules and laws you should have been expelled from Hogwarts and yet still you are here. What about the last second points to you? 200 points for special services, what services did you do for the school. Is that part of duties of the headmaster? He is always undermining Slytherin's chances. No wonder that the whole house hate him," She responded.

"What about Snape?" questioned Harry, incensed at her insinuation. "He is always docking points unfairly from other houses and especially me. What would you call that? Acceptable behavior from a Head of House, is it?"

"It is not comparable and you know it. Potion brewing is a hazardous task. If he is not as strict as he is, then we would see an exponential increase in accidents."

"He makes up rules as he goes along. _Points for breathing too loudly, points for taking library's book outside the school,"_ said Harry imitating Snape's slippery voice.

"Merlin's Pants Potter," she laughed. Her smile was infectious, soon Harry too was smiling. "Snape is inventive when he wants to be. Why does he hate you so much?"

"I only know what Dumbledore told me. Apparently he and my father didn't go along very well and he is taking out his revenge out on me."

"That's pathetic. He wouldn't do that."

"Believe whatever you want. Why do you care so much for slytherin?"

"Are you kidding me, Potter? Don't you recognize me? I guess the famous Harry Potter is so obsessed with his greatness that he doesn't recognize the lowly person of other houses. I am Ellen Starr, fifth year student at Hogwarts in Slytherin House."

"Slytherin? I guess that explain your acerbic comments for Gryffindors."

"Whatever. I will leave you to your nap. You go back to your reading or sleeping." Ellen moved out of the room, leaving Harry on his own.

Harry was unsettled at her implication that Dumbledore favoured him. But upon deep reflection, he was flabbergasted to realize that it was somewhat true. If anybody else had performed magic outside the Hogwarts then that person surely would have been at least expelled from the school. The students at the school hadn't really known what had actually ensued in the third floor forbidden corridor and the chamber of secrets. Harry hadn't cared for the points much; he had considered his life and the life of his friends much more important.

Hardly five minutes had passed that Harry was bothered again. This time by a house elf who was dressed better than Dobby but only a little. From its high pitch voice and long eyelashes, Harry guessed it be a female house-elf. She was dressed in a clean golden towel. She was also much less excited than the hyper active, Dobby.

"Mr. Harry Potter, sir. Lunch is being ready, sir. Mistress told Tipsy to call Mr. Harry Potter to the table."

Harry thanked her and joined Ellen at the table. Her anger had apparently evaporated for she greeted him with a smile. Indeed, the lunch was quite enjoyable. They both made fun of Hogwarts professors. Ellen (call me El) agreed with Harry about the disappointment of Defence Professors. El told Harry about the curse on the post, saying how nobody had lasted more than a year at Hogwarts and often due to a personal misfortune. Nobody competent had applied for the job in the long time.

After lunch, El showed Harry to the guest room and left. The room was the size of Dudley's bedroom, Harry guessed. Hedwig was already waiting for Harry, perched in the window. Harry's trunk was lying at the foot of the cupboard, most probably put there by Tipsy. Harry looked outside the window and was most pleasingly surprised to find a quidditch pitch right outside. Harry quickly opened his trunk and took his trusted Nimbus 2000 out. Harry knocked the door of El's room, which was on the opposite side down the hall, to invite her to play. El declined the offer instead electing to do her homework which she had received for her OWL year.

Harry kicked off the ground and was almost immediately lost in his joy at flying. Soon Harry was practicing his seeker moves. He let out the snitch and waited for five minutes before giving it chase. Before he knew it, evening had fallen and it was getting difficult to catch the snitch in the twilight. Harry descended from his broom and set on to the house.

When Harry joined Sam and El in the living room, after the bath, both were discussing their evening schedule.

"Say Harry, have you ever seen 'The Revenge of Warlock?' El hasn't seen it yet. We were thinking about going to see it today," said Sam.

Harry knew a little about the play from Hermione's startled gasp in the History of Magic Class. She had blushed when all eyes had turned toward her including the ghost teacher. She had explained later to both Ron and Harry about the celebrated writer, Christopher Marlowe who had disappeared from the muggle world at the age of 29, creating an enduring mystery about his sudden vanishing act.

Hermione clarified that Marlowe had infact vanished into the wizarding world in 1593, the time which was particularly turbulent in its history. There was much debate among the wizards and witches about cutting all ties from the muggles. Marlowe had clearly succumbed to the pressure and had joined the wizarding world. Although he couldn't leave it all behind, Marlowe had later written for the muggle audiences under a pseudonym—William Shakespeare.

Even Harry was surprised at this revelation. Harry hadn't paid much attention to Shakespeare in the school. He was never chosen to play any role. His only experience with theatre was limited to watching the nativity plays organized by the school during Christmas season.

Harry assented. They quickly gathered their cloaks and gathered around the fireplace. Sam took a pinch of floo powder from the pot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into flames.

With a roar, the golden flames turned emerald green and rose higher in the fireplace. Sam stepped right into it, shouted, "Charm Cleaners!" and vanished.

Ellen was next. Harry too stepped into the fire and took extreme care in properly enunciating the words, "Charm Cleaners!" and promptly vanished. This time his experience with floo was better than the last but not by a long margin. The sensation of going down the drain was still there but he had kept his eyes shut to avoid feeling dizzy. Still he shot right out the floo and crashed into Ellen who was evidently waiting for him.

Harry looked around and found himself in a large clothing store and from its name Harry guessed it to be a laundry. There was a massive pulley revolving, carrying bags of clothes which had already been cleaned. It was a making a great racket. The owner of the establishment was chatting with Sam in shouts and exaggerated hand gestures. Before he could join them, Ellen held his elbow and led him outside the store.

While they were waiting outside for Sam, Ellen explained to Harry that Sam had told her not to let Harry linger in the store. Harry nodded, understanding the reasons. He looked around and found himself in the most peculiar street he had ever been in. And that was saying something for he had already been in Diagon Alley and its shady counter-part, Knockturn Alley.

The architecture of the street was a bizarre amalgam of medieval and modern architecture. Some buildings were adorned with the high rising facades of gothic design, while some were strictly designed in the utilitarian fashion uncanningly resembling muggle stores.

Harry saw a large crowd chanting, "TROY! TROY! TROY!" outside the Nimbus Quidditch-Quality store. The shop had a giant sign decorated with green shamrocks proclaiming

TROY WALSH

will be launching the new line of Brooms

THE NIMBUS 2002

today 6:30 P.M. to 8 P.M.

The sign was also accompanied by the moving portrait of a red haired face with a large number of freckles on his nose. It was the same face from the poster hanging near Seamus' bed in the Gryffindor dorm. Seamus was an ardent fan of the Irish Quidditch Team and was getting in long heated debates with Ron on the chances of Irish and English Quidditch teams in the Euro Cup, 1993.

They arrived at their destination, the Globe Theatre which not surprisingly was indeed built in the shape of a globe. There was a giant sign, of its name, in front of the building. It was illuminated by numerous tiny fairies. A giant poster of the play was also plastered all over a gigantic billboard. It was a magical one as if a giant screen, depicting a flashing light of green emerging from a white wand, dissolving to black and portraying the names of cast and the director of the play.

There was a small queue waiting to enter the theatre. Sam left Harry and Ellen to join the queue at the ticket counter. Harry looked around the street and found the similar kind of animated posters of different plays. He guessed the street to be some sort of magical counterpart to West End Theatres of London.

A few moments later, they were sitting in their seats in the third row. To Harry's eye, the theatre was not dissimilar to the muggle one. The stage faced the seats seated in a semicircle pattern. Seats were arranged on different levels. The resemblance to the muggle theatre however ended the moment play began. Instead of raising the curtain, it dissolved into the thin air and the mist vanished and the actors came into view. Harry had never seen such display of magic which was being performed by the actors on the stage.

The plot of the play was centered on a muggleborn wizard of noble descent, Lloyd of House Reed. A dark sorcerer, in order to gain power through some obscure magical ritual, had sacrificed his family. Moreover, he had framed Lloyd for the deed and had him incarcerated in the prison for life. But Lloyd after a period of seven years broke out of the prison with the help of a warlock who used to be the mentor of the evil sorcerer but was betrayed and imprisoned. He taught Lloyd obscure spells of terrific power.

Lloyd used this power to take revenge against the sorcerer and his followers. However in the pursuit of his blindsided vengeance, Lloyd crossed too many boundaries of human decency. He adopted a policy of equal retaliation against the followers of Sorcerer. Soon his name became as terror inducing as of the sorcerer. He ended up in killing the Sorcerer and his followers in a violent duel which took place in the halls of his own family manor, which was utterly annihilated in the fighting. In the rubble, he found the body of his son who had evidently been killed in the duel. Anguished at the death of his son, possibly by his own hands, Lloyd committed suicide in the destroyed manor.

Harry was particularly enamored with the magical charms and spells used in the play by the actors in the final duel. Harry had never seen anything comparable to it. They had woven a spectacular display of magic mingled with compelling human emotions. It was a three hour long play but Harry, absolutely captivated in the play, hardly noticed. They decided to have dinner in a restaurant near the theater. It was a badger themed one, which Harry took to presume that it belonged to a hufflepuff. They spent much time discussing the play.

Sam said, "I liked the dueling part. The guy who played Lloyd, I saw him earlier in some other play. He has a good grasp on the wand work and dueling techniques."

El agreed with Sam about the lead actor. "He was really dreamy, wasn't he? It's a shame that he had to die."

Sam, who was training for the Dueling Championship, discussed about it with Harry. "I just wish it was slightly realistic. In real life one cannot take on dozens of wizards and still emerge victorious unless one is Dumbledore or Merlin himself."

Harry curious about the dueling asked Sam, "You know much about dueling then?"

"Of course I do. I've been training with Master Rasputin for the last year so I better. He says I shouldn't try to pay too much attention to fictional duels. There is a world of difference between dueling championship and the plays."

Harry interested to know more about dueling inquired, "What differences?"

"Look, in the play the director is more concerned about making the duels just more visually appealing and emotionally resonating with the audiences. In real dueling contest- footwork, stance, wand technique and, magical prowess matter. But what matters above all is speed and cunning. Often time less magically powerful persons can wipe the floor with their more magically gifted opponents."

"So, when is this Dueling Championship? Is it in summer before I go back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked Sam, anxious not to miss the chance to watch the real duels.

Sam's eyes gleamed with excitement and a smile appeared on his face. "It starts on 15 August and ends on 23 August. No worries, you will get to watch all the duels, you want. It's a rare sight. All sorts of magical kind from all over the world visit the city. Professional, enthusiasts, amateurs, all kind of wizards and witches participate in the Championship. Last time the number was around 800. This year they expect it to be over one thousand. Last year, a Japanese Samurai Warlock defeated me in the quarter-final." He ended on a slightly bitter tone, clearly the defeat still rankling him.

El chimed in, "Japan has a much competitive domestic dueling circuit. Many consider it to be the best in the world. No wonder Japan has three players in the top 10 rankings in the world."

"It shows in their performance. Yukio Mishima was brilliant at dueling. He went on to win the Championship. He didn't just defeat me; he trounced me in the truest sense of the word. I remember my back still hurt a week after the duel," Sam admitted.

"How are you training this year? Are you prepared to face him?" Harry wondered.

"I was fortunate that Master Rasputin chose me to train. He is in great demand. Last time his student was nearly killed by Mishima in the final, he managed to survive but his wife forbade him to take part in the championship ever again. Luckily he had seen my performance in the quarter final and when I approached him for the coaching, he readily agreed. He is a strict taskmaster. He can give the old mad-eye a run for money." Seeing the blank look on Harry's face, Sam elaborated, "My teacher in the Auror Academy. He has retired now thankfully. Moody is one of kind, kind of paranoid. He is a harsh mentor"

Harry knew Aurors were the investigators of the wizarding police, sort of detectives of the Scotland Yard of England. Harry knew that the auror department was responsible for catching the dark wizards and investigating the other abuses of magic. Their schedule was extremely busy, so Harry was surprised that Sam had managed to get such a long leave. "How did ministry let you have such a long leave?"

Before Sam could answer, Ellen interjected, "of course they did. They owed our father a lot."

Harry, who knew nothing of their father, asked, "er..Sorry. What did your father do?"

Ellen set Harry with a piercing stare as if assessing something. When she finally spoke, it was in somewhat a sharp tone. "You don't read much, do you Harry. Dad was the first muggleborn Minister of Magic. We still have connections within the ministry."

Harry looking to change the topic from his ignorance asked Ellen whether she was interested in Duelling.

It worked. Ellen's eyes shined with excitement. "Of course, I want to win the under-17 Duelling Tournament. Professor Flitwick has been kind enough to give me extra lessons in the Duelling for the last two years." Her voice was filled with pride at her achievements.

While waiting for the dessert to arrive (Harry had naturally ordered his favourite, Treacle Tart) the conversation turned toward Harry's interest in the Duelling.

"I don't know. Last year I was eager to watch the duel at school but it turned out to be a disappointing fiasco. Snape managed to trounce that ponce Lockheart in one spell." Ellen snorted at the mention of Lockhart. "It was sort of anti-climactic, to be honest."

Sam clearly amused at this responded, "I had heard a lot about him from Moody. Moody was extremely suspicious of him. Moody never believed a word he wrote in his books. I guess we will never know the truth. It's a shame really, Lockhart lying in the permanently damaged ward in the St. Mungos."

Harry, who still remembered the reason why Lockhart was in the hospital and had no sympathy left for him, said slightly tersely, "it's no less than what he deserves."

Both Sam and Ellen looked questioningly at Harry who added, "He tried to memory charm Ron Weasley and I. Thankfully he was using a broken wand which caused the spell to backfire and led to him losing his mind."

Sam still disbelievingly as if he couldn't believe why an adult would attack two twelve years, asked Harry, "Why would Lockhart try to cast the oblivion spell on two twelve years?"

"Because we discovered the truth, how he really was a coward, taking credit for other people's work, enriching himself by wiping the memory of the real wizards and witches," Harry explained.

Ellen asked Harry "Is that why you and Weasley were awarded the special services award and four hundred points?" At Sam's surprised expression, explained to him how the Gryffindor had won the house cup last year.

Harry hesitatingly, unsure how to really explain it, said, "It was related to it." Addressing Ellen, "You know about heir of Slytherin thing, right?"

Ellen nodded and explained to Sam about the whole sordid affair that had taken at Hogwarts last year. Well as much as she knew, about petrifying of muggleborn students, the stringent regimen which limited the movement of students, and ultimately about the kidnapping of a student. How the whole matter had led to swirling rumours about Harry being the heir of Slytherin. Both Sam and Ellen looked at Harry clearly curious for the truth.

Harry sighed and elaborated upon his answer. He recounted the whole affair about the chamber of secrets. How he and Ron had figured out the location of the Chamber, how they sought the help of Lockhart and learned the truth about him, and what happened in the Chamber. He however didn't tell them about the role of Ginny. He ended the tale at the slaying of Basilisk.

Sam and Ellen looked flabbergasted at the end of his tale. Both had their jaws dropped on the floor. Sam recovered first, "Wow! A basilisk! And you killed at the age of twelve! I wonder what will you as an adult."

Ellen, who had broken out of stupor, and asked Harry, "What about the first year? What happened between you and Professor Quirrel in the third floor? Why did Dumbledore awarded you and your friends a shitload of points at the feast?"

Harry wanting to defer it to a later time answered "It's a long story, may be some other time."

Ellen's curiousity was not to be denied. "We have got time now. Tell me and I'll buy you a butterbeer."

Harry had never heard of it, "Butterbeer?"

"An extremely popular drink, particularly among us, Hogwarts' crowd. Haven't you tried it yet?"

Harry slightly vexed at his ignorance of magical world, "In case you forget, I was raised by muggles. I hardly know these things."

Ellen apologized "Well, you will love it. Now tell me what happened in the first year?"

Harry resigned himself to the task and recounted about the philosopher's stone and how Voldemort was trying to steal it. Harry was glad to see that they both didn't show any outward sign of discomfort at the utterance of the Dark Lord's name which was usually the staple reaction of majority wizardkind.

However Ellen loudly interrupted him. "Voldemort?" she shouted. Almost everybody sitting at neighbouring tables winced and glared at her. She reddened slightly but carried on in a forced calm manner, "Voldemort is alive? And he was in Hogwarts possessing Quirrel?" Seeing the lack of surprise on his brother's face, "You knew, and you didn't tell me?" she demanded. "Don't give me any bullshit about me being young. You could handle much more when you were my age."

Sam sighed and nodded. "Dumbledore informed the Auror department about what had happened at the school and the circumstances pertaining to the death of Quirrel. However I knew nothing about the philosopher's stone."

She looked at Harry as if figuring out something, "So that's why you are staying with us. Dumbledore suspects Voldemort may try to harm you somewhere else."

Harry nodded. "With the escape of Black, Dumbledore deemed it to be prudent for me to stay in Avalon. If you don't mind me asking, why do you care so much for the survival of Voldemort?"

Ellen's expression hardened, with her jaw set, she determinedly answered, "I care because Voldemort ordered the death of our father. Father was working tirelessly to root out his supporters from the ministry. He must have been very successful because he sent Dolohov after father."

Harry embarrassed," I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"It's okay. You know you weren't the only one who lost their family to that mad man and his ilk. I still get angry that many of his followers escaped the justice. That's why I want to run for my father's seat in the Wizengamot. I want to continue the work that my father did," she declared.

Afterward few words were exchanged. Each one was engrossed in their own thoughts. A quick floo later, they returned to the home. (Starr's residence in true wizarding sense was named egg.) Harry wished good night to other two and retired to the guestroom.

He quickly changed into the night clothes and got under the covers. His thoughts were now occupied with the plot of the play. The spectacle of the play had worn off by now, dulled by time and food. The plot had posed a great question for Harry, particularly the question of revenge. Oddly enough, Harry had never actively sought revenge against Voldemort and his followers. Sure he had sabotaged Voldemort's efforts to regain power, but it had originated from his desire to save others, not from seeking revenge against Voldemort.

Harry felt extremely thankful that he had never obsessed about the revenge. That thought had led Lloyd to his utter destruction. He was transformed into what he hated most. Sure Harry hated living with the Dursleys, his childhood was tough and lonely, and Dudley hadn't made it any friendlier. But he had always hoped for better things and surely with time, they had arrived. He had friends now, friends who cared for him.

With such thoughts Harry drifted off to sleeps. That night he dreamt about the familiar flash of green and a high-pitched laugh which was always staple of his nightmares.

Miles away from where Harry slept, a large but thin black dog entered an immingled house which looked to be standing only due to magic. Its nose could smell the scent of the wretched person, he had come chasing. Sirius Black knew that Wormtail wouldn't be here or any Weasley. They all were in Egypt spending time with their eldest son.

Sirius followed the scent to the topmost level of the Burrow and found himself in the most orange room he had ever been in. Sirius barked a laugh, may be his first in twelve years, remembering the time when he and James had argued over which was the worst team in the quidditch league. James had actually like Chudley Cannon and refused to agree.

Sirius shook his head trying to get rid of thoughts about James, too much pain lingered there, and turned toward looking for the signs of Peter. Sirius knew Weasleys were not at the Burrow from the paper that Fudge had left him in the Azkaban. He couldn't believe that the magicals had chosen such an incompetent minister of magic.

Cornelius Fudge, whose career had risen after he had arrested Sirius as a hit wizard, had always taken an enormous interest in Sirius's case. Sirius had tried to petition for trail many times but Fudge had always managed to quash it, no doubt aided by Crouch. Getting angry at injustice, Sirius turned his mind to the thoughts of Harry whom he had seen after escaping from Azkaban.

Harry looked so much similar to James at his age that for a moment Sirius thought he had travelled back in time. Then his emerald green eyes shone which were identical to Lily's and Sirius realized that he was seeing his godson for the first time in twelve years. It was all he could do to not hug him then and there and explain to him all about the switching of secret keeper.

But Sirius decided to first catch his proof before convincing Harry of his innocence. As he lay on the bed, Sirius decided to stay in burrow to gain some health, his twelve years' imprisonment at Azkaban had weakened him greatly. Besides, the ministry would be searching for him. Burrow was as safe as it could get at least until the Weasleys returned.


End file.
